


hyper(aware)

by pidgeotto_gunderson (peter_parkerson)



Series: Voltron Season 7 Fix-It’s [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Canon Compliant, Canon Gay Character, Coming Out, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gay Shiro (Voltron), Gen, Keith & Shiro (Voltron) are Siblings, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Lance (Voltron)-centric, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining Lance (Voltron), Season/Series 07, Sexuality Crisis, author doesnt know how to tag despite having a grand total of 15 posted fics, he doesn't know it but he is, i wrote a lot of this at 2am for 3 nights in a row and honestly? i regret nothing, lance is a bisexual disaster and that should be a tag, not by blood or adoption but by willpower, sort of? im running with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 18:07:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17126204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peter_parkerson/pseuds/pidgeotto_gunderson
Summary: “I think…I think I like boys.”When the words finally come out, his tone is uneven and each syllable is over-pronounced. He hates it, hates how wrong his voice sounds, hates, most of all, how difficult it is to say these five words.It shouldn’t be this difficult, and yet.'I think I like boys'.Season 7 fix-it, set after they've come back to Earth (around e11 or e12), imagining if Lance had gone to Shiro about his sexuality.





	hyper(aware)

**Author's Note:**

> hi it's been 8 years since i posted one of these but i've returned
> 
> you don't have to read the other fics in the series to follow this but i'd recommend reading "the space between us" and "implosion (the lines we cross)" because there's lines that reference both of those. love that continuity

Knocking on Shiro’s door is one of the hardest things he’s ever done.

 

He stands outside Shiro’s room for a good ten minutes, just trying to talk himself into it. All the while, his hands tremble, he can’t seem to make his foot stop tapping on the floor, and he’s sure his hair is a mess from running his fingers through it, but he’s here.

 

He’s here.

 

This is what he needs. Shiro can help him with this, Shiro will understand.

 

( _Please understand_.)

 

Lance raps on the door, gently, three times.

 

And he waits.

 

And he breathes. In and out, in and out. Slow. Steady. He’s calm, he’s collected, he’s okay. He can do this.

 

He almost turns. He almost leaves because _holy shit, he can’t do this,_ but then the door swings open and Shiro is standing in front of him. His eyebrows are knitted together, but there’s a casual smile on his face as he leans against the doorframe.

 

“Hey, Lance,” he says, and it’s all Lance can do to keep his expression clear because Shiro looks _happy._ And then because he knows it shouldn’t be this damn weird to see Shiro happy. “What can I do for you?”

 

In this moment, Lance is incredibly grateful for Adam Warren.

 

Lance has no idea how much time passes before he actually says something, but Shiro’s forehead creases more and more in his silence. With his stomach turning and his hands clenched into fists, he blurts, “Shiro, can I talk to you? It’s kind of important.”

 

Immediately, Shiro’s stance changes. His posture goes stiff, shoulders tensing, and the smile slips off his face. “‘End of the world’ important or ‘regular people problems’ important?”  

 

“Oh, oh, no, it’s not - not ‘end of the world’ important, just -” Lance fumbles, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He can’t stop fidgeting. He can’t stop _thinking._

 

Why is he doing this?

 

(Because he needs this. Because he needs to talk this out, because he needs someone to tell him what he’s supposed to do, how he’s supposed to feel, because he needs someone to _understand._ )

 

(Because he’s stupid and messed up and he’s too weak to handle this on his own.)

 

(Because he’s allowed to ask for help. He _is._ )

 

“It’s just regular people problems, Shiro,” Lance finishes lamely.

 

Shiro relaxes, barely. “Oh, alright. What’s going on, then?”

 

So much. So much is going on. His head is a fucking whirlwind, and it’s so hard to keep track of it all. He feels like the world is moving a mile a minute around him while he’s moving in feet per second.

 

“Can I come in?” he says in lieu of answering.

 

“Uh -” Shiro glances behind him, then back to Lance. There’s a split second of hesitation, Lance sees it in his eyes, and then he steps aside and gestures for Lance to enter. “Just let me - Adam’s here, so…”

 

“Oh, I can come back later.” Instinctively, he throws this out, feet still planted firmly in the hallway, even though he’s fully aware that if he leaves now, he’ll never come back. It took him forever to work up the courage to do this and he can’t back out now.

 

Thankfully (or not, jury’s still out), Shiro shakes his head. “No, it’s cool. Whatever this is, it’s obviously important. Adam and I can talk later.”

 

On cue, there’s rustling from the room. Shiro’s head swivels around again, and that little smile makes a reappearance, this time even softer. Adam Warren is a fucking miracle worker.

 

Adam walks up behind Shiro, one hand easily coming to rest on Shiro’s shoulder. Lance doesn’t know if they’re still together or not - well, _back_ together or not, really - but either way, one glance is all it takes to see how much these two adore each other. Even after…however long it’s been since they’ve seen each other. It’s incredible to see, the ease of it all and how much lighter Shiro seems with Adam around.

 

Lance wants that.

 

Not - not _this,_ specifically. Not the whole ‘years of being apart’ thing, not the separation.

 

And not a _boy._

 

He doesn’t want a boy. He likes girls, he - he’s into _girls,_ not -

 

Fuck, he can’t even tell if he’s lying to himself or not.

 

(He remembers the feeling of Keith’s hand in his, the soft affection in his eyes when they sat together in the Red Lion after the whole _lost in space_ incident. Remembers the strange, unidentifiable feeling that made his fingers and toes tingle when Keith looked at him.

 

Pushes that memory out of his head. It’s not important. It’s _not._ )

 

“Hello.” Adam’s voice yanks him back to the present. “Nice to see you again, McClain.”

 

He’s snapped into Garrison Mode before he even knows what he’s doing, his right hand flying up into a salute and his incessant fidgeting ceasing. The voice that comes out of his mouth doesn’t sound like him. “Hello, Sir. Nice to see you, too.”

 

Laughter. Lance doesn’t think Garrison teachers are supposed to laugh when cadets salute them, but really, he doesn’t know what to think at all anymore. His Garrison days are a little blurry. So he could be wrong.

 

“You don’t - you don’t have to salute me, Lance, it’s okay.” Adam flashes him a smile, brushing past Shiro to slip out of the room and join Lance in the hallway. Because he’s still standing in the damn hallway. “You’re a Paladin of Voltron, I feel like we’re on the same level now.”

 

“Holy shit,” Lance breathes, reverently.

 

Shiro might have been his hero, sure, but Adam was his absolute favorite teacher. And if he’s being honest, he’s pretty sure he was Adam’s favorite student too. And now…

 

_On the same level._

 

He thinks he can die happy now.

 

Adam snorts. “Well, I’ll head out so you two can talk.”

 

To Shiro, he says, “You know where to find me after this, Takashi.”

 

And he’s gone. And it’s just Lance and Shiro.

 

Shit. Now he definitely can’t get out of this.

 

Lance’s bottom lip finds its place between his teeth for the billionth time today. He shouldn’t be this nervous. It’s just Shiro. And clearly, Shiro’s not going to judge him for -

 

For.

 

“Come on in, Lance.”

 

_For._

 

Lance’s feet feel like they’re made of lead, but he forces them to move, drags himself into Shiro’s room with dread bubbling up in his stomach. His chest is tight, but not _panic attack_ tight, so. He’s fine. This is totally, completely, 100% fine.

 

He sits down on Shiro’s bed solely out of fear that his knees will buckle if he stays standing (he’s fine). His hands automatically curl into the bed’s gray comforter, still-shaking fingers agitatedly twisting the fabric (he’s fine).

 

He can feel Shiro’s gaze on him. He doesn’t let go of the comforter, doesn’t think he can, but he does try to school his expression into something less...anxious.

 

This is awkward. This is awkward and uncomfortable and _weird_ and Shiro’s probably pissed that Lance interrupted his... _thing_ with Adam and that he’s bothering him with regular people problems when there’s so much bigger stuff to worry about and -

 

“Lance, I can hear you thinking.”

 

Shit. Shit fuck _shit_ he can’t do this. He has the words, they’re just lodged somewhere in his throat where he can’t quite reach them, but he has to get them out because even if this isn’t important to the universe, it’s important to _him_.

 

“There’s something I -” The words still won’t come, his mouth and his brain can’t get on the same damn page. He’s not sure they’re even reading the same damn book.

 

“Lance, hey -”

 

“I just, I needed to tell someone  -” He tries to rephrase it, see if the issue is the words themselves, rather than their meaning, but no, the words still stick to the chewed up insides of his cheeks. And now his chest is bordering on _panic attack_ tight - he’s all too aware of the awful, fluttery feeling he gets before a panic attack, and he feels it now, acutely, as if it’s the only thing he’s ever felt.

 

“Hey, hey, Lance. _Hey.”_

 

A gentle pressure on his knee. A voice, a calm, level voice saying _breathe, Lance, just take a deep breath, okay?_

 

Oh, right. That. Breathing.

 

He sucks in a sharp inhale through his nose, lets out a harsh exhale through his mouth. And it hurts, it _aches,_ all the way down to his bones - it’s not the whole _actually letting air into his lungs_ thing, though, nor the opposite.  


It’s the fear.

 

The thing is, he’s been holding onto this for so long. This _thing_ inside of him, the part of him that he’s been hiding, burying, running from for so long. He’s so fucking _scared._

 

“You with me, Lance?” Shiro’s voice shakes. It’s almost imperceptible, really, and if Lance wasn’t so hyperaware of everything that’s off about this whole situation, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. But he is. And he did. And apparently, his own anxiety is spiking Shiro’s.

 

Which makes sense.

 

(Which makes him feel even guiltier.)

 

(Which isn’t his _fault,_ dammit.)

 

“Sorry,” Lance chokes out, and the embarrassment hits him all at once. God, what is he _doing?_ Here he is, having a panic attack in front of his literal _hero,_ and over what?

 

“Don’t apologize.” The weight that’s settled on Lance’s chest lifts, just a litte.  “Not - not for this, alright?”

 

Then a little more. Lance finally releases the comforter just to wrap his arms around himself, tilting forward and squeezing his eyes shut. He needs to say it.

 

He’ll feel better if he says it, he knows he will.

 

“I think…I think I like boys.”

 

When the words finally come out, his tone is uneven and each syllable is over-pronounced. He hates it, hates how _wrong_ his voice sounds, hates, most of all, how difficult it is to say these five words.

 

It shouldn’t be this difficult, and yet.

 

_I think I like boys._

 

“Oh. Oh, well, uh, that’s - that’s okay, Lance. You know that’s okay, right?”

 

“I -” Lance stops. Clenches his hands together in his lap, opens his eyes to stare at a crack in the floor. This shouldn’t be something he has to think about, but...for once, he pushes away the guilt that burns low in his chest and actually considers the question.

 

_You know that’s okay, right?_

 

Does he?

 

In theory, he does. It’s not some awful thing, liking the same sex. He’s aware of that, completely - it’s not bad for Shiro to be gay, it’s not bad for Shiro to be in love with a man, with Adam, and it’s not bad for Lance to be -

 

Be.

 

“If you’re…gay or bisexual or pansexual or whatever, it’s - it’s alright.”

 

_Be._

 

It tumbles out of his mouth before he’s even sure of it, but as soon as it does, he knows it’s true. “I know. I - I do, really, s’just…it’s…”

 

“Hard,” Shiro finishes. “I know.”

 

Lance has managed to avoid looking at him since he sat down, but now he glances over at Shiro, at his old leader, at the man he’s looked up to for years, and finds understanding.

 

He almost breaks down sobbing right then and there. Shiro _understands_.

 

It’s all he wanted. All he _needed,_ for someone to _get it._

 

(He thinks of Keith, then - Keith, who he knows is also gay from back in the Garrison when Lance punched a boy who made fun of Keith for wearing a rainbow pin. Keith, who told him once, late at night, what feels like forever ago, that he’s kissed exactly two boys and only liked one of them. Keith, who tried to convince him that Shiro doesn’t have a problem with him and hugged him back and stood so very close to him.

 

Keith, who Lance couldn’t talk to about this for reasons he can’t quite explain.)

 

“I - Shiro, how did -” Lance sits up straight, runs a hand through his hair for probably the fiftieth time in the past hour. In this moment, he feels…he doesn’t know how he feels. Itchy. Unstable. Lighter, he thinks. “How did you know? That you’re…y’know, that you like boys?”

 

For a long moment, Shiro is quiet. Long enough that Lance starts to worry that he said something wrong, and then, “Gay.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s - I’m gay, Lance. You can say it.”

 

Sitting still is not working for him. In the span of ten seconds, Lance goes from tugging on his shirt collar to massaging the back of his neck to scratching at his knee, which is what he settles on for about eight seconds before switching to kneading at his left shoulder. His voice catches when he says, “I’m not.”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Gay. I’m - I’m not.”  


 

“...Okay. Yeah, alright, you don’t - you don’t have to be.”

 

Lance hears him, he does, but he’s mostly talking to himself by now. He’s practically vibrating with nervous energy, like he could shake out of his own damn skin at any given second. “I like girls. I - I really do, I like - girls, I mean, I…I like Allura. Ot at least, I…I thought…”

 

Shiro gives a small noise of...surprise, maybe, and moves his hand to rub circles between Lance’s shoulder blades. From anyone else, it’d probably feel patronizing, but right now, from Shiro, Lance will take whatever comfort he can get.

 

“You, uh -” Shiro is so out of his element. It’s evident, strangely enough, that, despite surely having been on Lance’s end of this conversation (similar ones, at least), he really doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Lance almost laughs, just because of the sheer absurdity of the whole situation, if not for the fact that this is the single-most important conversation he’s had that wasn’t about the fate of the entire universe.

 

An eternity seems to pass before Shiro figure out what he wants to say. “You don’t have to know right now, Lance. I know it feels like…like you have to know exactly who you are at this exact second, but you don’t. It’s not the end of the world if you don’t have a label yet.”  


 

Lance doesn’t respond. Can’t. His heart is in his throat and his thoughts are soup in his head.

 

Shiro takes a deep breath, like he’s steeling himself, and his hand leaves Lance’s back. He scoots away from him - for a few terrifying seconds, Lance thinks he’s going to get up and leave - and turns to face Lance, leaning back against the headboard with his legs folded underneath him. When he finally speaks, it simultaneously sounds completely unprepared and rigorously rehearsed. “I realized I was gay when I was fourteen.”

 

Lance stares at him, wide-eyed.

 

“It wasn’t some big revelation or anything. It was my freshman year of high school, and everyone was having their first serious crushes…” Shiro scoffs lightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a nostalgic sort of smile. “My friends would talk about the girls they were into, and I - I didn’t get what the fuss was about for a long time. I thought I was just a late bloomer or something for a while, figured I’d feel it soon enough, but it never did. Eventually I realized that I just…didn’t like girls the way that my friends did and I never would.

 

“You’d think once I realized that, everything would just click, right? Y’know, like all the pieces would fall into place? Nope. Even after I figured out I didn’t like girls, it took me ages to realize that I _did_ feel what my friends felt. Just…about boys,” Shiro finishes, and it’s not the same.

 

It’s not the same.

 

But hearing it…hearing it does make something shift in him. It’s not the same, but Lance does know what it’s like to feel different from all the people around him without understanding why.

 

This isn’t a brand new thing. As much as he’s tried to pretend it is, all of this - the feelings, the confusion, the _fear -_ it’s not new. This _thing_ that’s burning a hole in his chest, it’s been here the whole time. He could ignore it before - years ago, even just months ago - but it’s caused him too much pain to ignore now.

 

(He was thirteen years old when he met Jamie Foster. He was sweet and optimistic and sincere, and he could make someone feel like they were the only person in the world.)

 

(Fourteen years old when he met Arlo Cordon. He was ambitious and witty and passionate, and he held the stars in the palms of his hands.)

 

(Fifteen when he met Oliver Portman. He was bold and charming and adventurous, and they kissed, once, under the moonlight and then never spoke of it again.)

 

(He was thirteen when he met Keith Kogane for the first time. He was sixteen when he found Keith Kogane again.)

 

It’s not the same.

 

He’s not gay. 

 

But...he does like boys.

 

He likes boys.

 

 _I like boys,_ he tells himself.

 

“I like boys,” he says aloud.

 

And holy _shit,_ it feels good. Time doesn’t freeze, the world doesn’t stop turning. Nothing explodes. Nothing ends.

 

He’s okay.

 

Shiro smiles at him and it’s soft and kind and everything Lance wanted it to be. “Okay. Thank you for telling me. I, uh - I’m proud of you, Lance.”

 

This time, he actually does cry. As soon as he processes the words - _I’m proud of you_ \- tears well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. Lance pitches sideways into Shiro, who makes a strangled noise that Lance barely notices but catches him with his prosthetic hand and lets him lean into his side, head landing on his shoulder. Shiro wraps his flesh arm around him and lets Lance’s tears soak into his button-down shirt.

 

Lance cries for his younger self and for all the years he spent wondering and worrying and wanting.

 

Shiro rests his chin on the top of Lance’s head and whispers, “Coming out is difficult, Lance, I know. Trust me, I know. You’re really brave for even doing this, and I’m honored that you came to me. You can always come to me.”

 

In his head, a voice that sounds suspiciously like Keith says, _He never had a problem with you, Lance._

 

“Thank you,” he says wetly, voice muffled in his hero’s shirt. “I - thank you, Shiro. Thank you so much.”

 

“Of course, kid. And I -” Shiro sighs, breath tickling the tips of Lance’s ears. His fingers tense against Lance’s spine, and Lance knows that they haven’t always had the best of relationships, as teammates, as friends, but he can’t find it in him to care now. Not when the knowledge that Shiro is here, that he accepts him, is the only thing that’s keeping him together. “I’m sorry, Lance, that I haven’t exactly been a great…anything, really, to you. I know I never made as much of an effort to get to know you as I should have, but I - I really am here for you. I want to be someone you feel like you can talk to, because I know how much it helps to have someone.”

 

One last sob passes his lips before Lance pulls away. He’s shaking as he rubs furiously at his cheeks, trying his damndest to scrub the tear tracks from his skin. Sniffling, he folds his arms across his chest and lets his eyes flutter shut again. Quietly, he says, “It’s okay, Shiro. I mean, I know I was - I know I haven’t really been the easiest guy to get along with. Just…it’s not all on you.”

 

“Still. I’m - I was your leader, and…especially with what you said after you guys were lost in space, I should have -”

 

“ _No._ ” He doesn’t mean for it to be as loud as it is, nor as sharp, but, well. “It’s _not_ your fault, okay? God, what is it with you and your brother blaming yourselves for other people’s shit?”

 

A pause. “Run’s in the family, I guess.”

 

Lance snorts, and then he’s just laughing, full-on laughing into his hand, the fact that the joke wasn’t even that funny lost on him. Shiro chuckles unsurely for a moment, until a gross, snotty noise comes out of Lance’s mouth and Shiro breaks down laughing along with him.

 

He laughs until all the oxygen runs out of his lungs and his stomach screams in protest. And then he sucks in a breath and does it all over again.

 

Except somewhere in that cycle, Shiro says, “Is it Keith?” and Lance chokes on air.

 

“Wh-what?” Lance sputters, face screwing up automatically.

 

Shiro at least has the decency to sheepish. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t have - I don’t want to pry, just…I see the way you look at him sometimes and it reminds me of how Adam looks -” he pauses, expression clouding for a split second, then going blank “- _used_ to look at me.”

 

Lance is pretty sure that look hasn’t changed, but that’s none of his business.

 

And he does _not_ look at Keith that way. There’s no way in hell that he looks at Keith the same way Adam looked (looks) at Shiro because Adam looked (looks) at Shiro like he’s in love with him and Lance is _not_ in love with Keith.

 

He can’t be. It’s - it’s _Keith_. And he likes Allura. Of course he likes Allura, he’s liked Allura since…pretty much since he first met her.

 

Maybe that’s the problem.

 

Apparently, his thoughts are painted on his face, because Shiro says, “You know you can like more than one person at a time, yeah?”

 

“...Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

 

He doesn’t, though. Like more than one person at the same time, that is.

 

He and Keith are friends. They’re friends and nothing else.

 

Lance loves him. He can admit that now.

 

Just…not like that.

 

Right?

 

( _Keith, I - we’re always here for you._

 

 _Even though I wasn’t here for you?_  


_Always.)_

 

...Right?

 

“If it helps, it’s not obvious,” Shiro offers. Why, Lance doesn’t know, seeing as he’s _not_ into Keith, goddammit. “I mean, it was a little obvious to me, but that’s just because he’s my brother and I pay attention. No one else sees it, I’m sure.”

 

“There’s nothing to see,” Lance whispers, but even he can’t tell if he’s trying to convince Shiro or himself.

 

Shiro holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay. If you say so, Lance.”

 

It’s quiet. Lance doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say.

 

The silence doesn’t drag on for too long, though. Shiro seemingly can’t handle the quiet - or, more likely, he thinks Lance can’t - so he keeps talking even though there’s not much else to say. “Y’know, I was the first person Keith came out to, as well. I, uh, I made it weird.”

 

Lance smiles slightly, swiping his shirt sleeve under his nose. “Oh, yeah, I’ve heard this story. Keith told me about it once, when neither of us could sleep and we both ended up on the observation deck.”

 

“It was super awkward, which is odd since I’ve come out plenty of times before, but ultimately, it was good.”

 

This conversation has no direction anymore. Shiro’s just trying to fill the empty space, keep Lance from thinking too much. Normally, that’s Lance’s job.

 

It’s nice to be on the other end for once. Even if they are still talking about Keith.

 

“Well, you’ve improved,” Lance tells him, half teasing and half sincere. He feels weird and hazy and sort of like he wants to scratch at his skin just to see if all the discomfort will pour from his veins, but it’s still better than before. He still doesn’t know who he is, not really, but he’s closer now. If nothing else, he’s closer now. “You said you were proud of me and it didn’t sound like a question.”

 

Shiro winces, but he’s grinning. “Not my best moment, I’ll admit.”

 

“Eh, well - Keith did say it’s one of his favorite memories, so there’s that.”

 

And just like that, the air has cleared. They’re joking and laughing like everything’s okay, like Lance hasn’t just spoken the words he’s been terrified of for who knows how long, like they’re _friends,_ and finally, _finally_ , Lance thinks he might just be alright.

 

Shiro knocks his knee against Lance’s. Lance looks over at him and for the first time in as long as he can remember, he knows that the person looking at him is really seeing him. All of him. 

 

“Hey,” Shiro says, softly. “You got through the hardest part, kid. Not to say that the rest of this will be easy - it won’t - but it’ll be easi _er._ Every day, every time you come out, every time you say the words _I like boys_ , it’ll be easier. I know it feels like you’ve been holding your breath your whole life, but you get to exhale now, Lance.” 

 

_You get to exhale now, Lance._

 

He does.

 

And he’s okay.

 

Or, at least, he will be.

**Author's Note:**

> if you need someone to talk to, whether it's for advice on your sexuality/coming out or if you just want someone to listen, message me on [tumblr](https://peter-parkerson.tumblr.com/)


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